Wednesday, October 31, 2007
My most memorable Hallowe'en costume proved astonishingly prophetic. No, I didn't dress up as a writer or a book.
I was a telephone.
My mother took a large cardboard box and painted it black. She got the handset of an old toy phone and painted it, and the cord, black and attached it to the side of the box. She made a rotary dial, because this was The Olden Days, and glued it to the box. She cut a rectangle above the dial so I could see. I wore black tights and voila, I was a phone.
Why prophetic? Because my mom and I talk on the phone every day, sometimes more often. The phone has become a sort of theme for us.
I wish I had a picture of this, but alas, I don't. My folks weren't much for taking pictures. Although somewhere (and I keep searching) there is a picture of me standing in Algonquin Park with a pen and a crayon box, pretending I'm a reporter.
When I look back at the games I used to play and the books I used to read and the movies I used to watch, I see so many things that made me into a writer I am today.
Like playing dress-up, having fun by becoming somebody else for a little while. My Grade Two teacher referring to me as her "little bookworm." The sheer thrill of the arrival of a Scholastic Book order. The happy times in amateur theater (once again becoming somebody else for a little while). There are more, but these are the first that come to mind.
When you look back, do you see things that pointed to the writer you would one day become?